


Shiro Birthday Week 2020

by kitsune13tamlin



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Happy Birthday Shiro (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron)-centric, Shiro Birthday Week 2020, happy birthday to the best boi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22881754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitsune13tamlin/pseuds/kitsune13tamlin
Summary: Shiro's having a birthday week over on tumblr (shirobirthdayweek2020 and shiro-birthday-celebration) and how can I not celebrate such an amazing character?  Little bits and pieces, all Shiro-centric.
Comments: 29
Kudos: 26





	1. day one: black paladin

He comes to her battered and broken, missing pieces of his body, of his mind, of his soul. He is not clothed in power and glory. There is no bluster, no pride. Worlds do not hide in the shadows of his feet. He is lost and hurting, scared of the immensity of things, determined not to give in to it, not to show it. He stands before her, impossibly small, impossibly frail and her pride, her team, gather around him. Backing him. Supporting him. Piloted by other tiny alien creatures and those tiny creatures, sparks in the darkness of their lions, believe. They do not believe in the lions - not yet. They do not believe in themselves - not yet.

They do believe in this one single standing man however, unwavering in their trust. In their faith.

He lifts his eyes to her and she sees awe in them. She sees hope fighting fear. She sees determination.

She sees light.

His heart is in his eyes and it is fractured and bruised - and it is more immense and boundless and beautiful than the entire universe outside the shell of this planet. Steadfast and alive with fire, soft with warmth, deep with experience, wide with the weight it can and does bear. There are a trillion stars inside his heart, thrumming light in time to his heartbeat and she sees that he will not run. He will not give up.

He will not let it end.

The Black Lion lifts her head 

and 

she 

**_roars_ **


	2. day two: space

“I’m sorry,” the princess apologizes. "It looks like the last fight did more damage than we thought. Gravity will be out for a while longer.“

Outside, past the view screen, the stars are small points of light, glints of energy against the swallowing dark.

Lance waves long arms in wild windmills of action and for once the movements do nothing at all for him or to help vent his energy.

"But this place is huge! What if we drift away somewhere and no one ever finds us?!”

For a second, Shiro feels the old echo of fear that every astronaut holds inside themselves. Of losing maneuverability in space, of being left to drift, helpless, through eternity, too small and insignificant to ever be found, lost between the stars. 

And then he realizes that Lance is only talking about the castle-ship itself, fears much more focused and immediate. Its excessively stated. Shiro has learned that about Lance already. But its also not wrong. With his trait for saying what’s at the heart of what everyone else is feeling, Lance has put a name on their collective repressed fear. The castle-ship they’re on really is huge and mostly unexplored for them at this point. It already echoes in long skittering bounces of unexpected sound, meant to house hundreds, not seven. Seven and three mice, Shiro corrects himself mentally as one of them - the pink? one - drifts past, tiny arms folded behind its head. He would swear it winks at him on the way past, slow and lackadaisical except its hard, when its eyes are on either side of its head, to tell for sure and he can handle a lot but sentient mice winking at him isn’t currently something he wants to add to the list of insane but real things he’d currently shouldering.

“We could end up locked in a closet - or an empty room - like - like that lady that got locked in a chest on her wedding day!!” Lance’s voice, already young, is rising, making it sound younger and closer to cracking. Shiro does a quick scan of the rest of the team and sees Hunk , already sweating and holding his hands, and his knees, close to his chest, eyes wide. Pidge has caught her glasses and is taking too long cleaning the lenses of them while she spins in a slow circle. And Keith is looking sullen, arms tightly crossed across his chest and, Shiro realizes, surreptitiously watching him. Waiting for a cue so he knows how to react. 

Slow, intentionally casual, Shiro reaches down and hooks his hand on the top of a seat, pulling himself downward. Weightlessness has never been his enemy. He’s got too many other now to let it start at this point. 

“No one’s getting locked anywhere,” he keeps it firm, his ‘commander’ voice. “No one’s getting lost. Look,” his tone shifts, gentling into his 'instructor’ voice. “Its inconvenient but- this is what you all would have experienced if you’d gotten the chance to finish your training and pilot ships of your own. A lot of them don’t have their own gravity, you spend months floating around, bouncing off of the sides of things." 

He smiles, let them see it and the way he’s relaxed, sitting on the top of the chair with his feet on the seat, one hand hooked naturally to keep him in place. "I can’t tell you how many times I’d get back from a mission and set something in thin air thinking it would be there when I reached for it again instead of remembering gravity was a thing.”

Keith snorts, a hard won laugh for him.

“I remember you broke your favorite coffee mug, letting it go in midair one time when you were talking to me about classes.”

Shiro laughs, easier than Keith’s and nods, fingers of his free hand moving slightly to point.

“Hey, that was a vintage Star Trek mug. Spock’s ear never glued on right after that.”

There’s a groan from one of the other kids at his display of 'old nerd’ but - it had worked. The rest of the team calms down, forgetting to be afraid, distracted from it by stories and the memories of their own dreams of space. If their leader is taking this in stride than it can’t be that bad. Shiro knows it, he knows they look to him to show them how to deal with this entirely foreign situation - not just the gravity but the entire 'alien universe’ bit. And he knows he had to stay level for them. Needing to do it for others, helps him do it for himself. He leans mentally full in for it.

“Think of this as an adventure!” 

Another groan. He grins. 

“Or think of it as training. Usually you wouldn’t have gotten this kind of thing until you were advanced enough for the space station. Just imagine, you’re already head of your class back on Earth now.” Way ahead, but he doesn’t let them dwell on that part. "We’ll set up some rope lines to the main areas. We’ll keep the communicators open. Its really not much bigger than the space station back home if we stick to the main routes we already know.“ 

It is. Bigger. That isn’t really the point though. His team is watching him and all of them have relaxed. Hunk has uncurled himself, Pidge has stopped cleaning her glasses, Lance has stopped gesticulating wildly. Keith’s arms have - a little - uncrossed from their tight guard over his thin chest. Shiro gives them all a smile. Proud of them. "It’ll be fun.” He puts the nail on things with the 'dad’ observation and Pidge rolls her eyes but - its okay. Everyone is okay now. Their fears have been soothed away, gathered up in Shiro’s hands and safely disposed of where they’re not so big and scary anymore.

He looks over at the princess and she looks back. He hasn’t known her long but he can already see questions behind her eyes. Probably about the Earth tech he’s mentioned but possibly about brides getting locked in chests on their wedding day while playing hide and seek. He gives her a smile as well and when she smiles back, hesitant but real, he realizes she’s very aware of what he’s just done for his team. He nods and, standing up on the headrest of the chair, hooks a boot toe to keep himself there, stretching out an arm and grabbed Lance’s sneaker.

“There. I’ve got you. Reach over and get Pidge. Pidge grab Hunk. Keith, you’re close enough to the wall, stick out a leg and give yourself a push over here. Don’t worry about over-shooting. I’ll catch you. Let’s get everyone anchored somewhere and then we can practice pushing off and grappling things until everyone’s comfortable. We’re in space after all. This probably won’t be the only time we need to work without gravity." 

He reaches out for an incoming Keith but Lance is in a better position and his long arm shots out first. Shiro relaxes a bit more. The 'rivalry’ really isn’t useful for anything and he’s glad it isn’t real enough for Lance to remember it when he isn’t paying attention. Gentle, he hauls everyone down to cluster around the chair and lets them anchor themselves variously before he pushes off of it and easily 'climbs’ his way across the ceiling to push down again and anchor himself next to the monitor the princess is at. He really can’t dwell on it right now but - he’s missed weightlessness. The easy glide through air, sleeping rocked by it, all but flying when he moves. He gives the princess another smile, encouraging, and her answering one is warmer. The kids on his team aren’t the only ones having to figure things out as they go. On the screen of the monitor, Coran drifts around in what must be an engine room. The man doesn’t seem anything other than his usual chipper self.

"I’ll have things back to normal before a _minite_ can shake all its tails!” he announces cheerfully and completely uselessly for the majority of them that don’t know what a _minite_ is. Shiro gives him a smile all the same.

“No idea what that means but thanks, Coran. Give us a bit of a head’s up before you switch the gravity back on though, will you? Don’t need anyone up in the air when it happens.”

“Righty oh! Don’t want any paladin pancakes!”

Shiro has to wonder about the words the castle’s translator chooses to translate and which ones it doesn’t but that’s for another time. Already he can hear his team around their chair with Pidge and Hunk discussing angles of bounce for their first foray out and Lance telling Keith the chair isn’t big enough for the two of them. He doesn’t sigh. Just gives the princess another smile and then turns back to his team.

“All right! Time for some laps! And stay close to the ground just to be safe.”


	3. day three: family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I have borrowed my name from my family. When I die I must return it to them untarnished."

Shiro has a family.

He has a twin brother that’s only a few minutes younger than he is, who loves to tinker and build and take things apart. Shiro can’t imagine going through life without Ryou’s wry humor, his indomitable need to fight for what he thinks is right, his belief that any problem can be fixed if they only can find the right tools for it. Ryou’s immovable, unshakeable faith in his twin’s ability to snatch victory from the crashing darkness of defeat - and his unwavering determination to help him do it. Shiro thinks of his brother when he’s knocked down and how nothing in the world can keep Ryou from crawling back to his feet and he does too because anything less would be a betrayal of his brother’s support.

Shiro has a mother. She’s small and soft spoken and when she laughs it sounds like a small dog sneezing and fills up her eyes with stars. Her love is quiet, shown in warm wrapping hugs and finger combed hair before their presentations no matter their age. She’s a school teacher and something of the way she cherishes her little charges never really leaves the way she interacts with everyone else, treating them as important and precious and delicate and full of potential. She tends to rest her hands over her heart when she talks about her twins, just lifting one hand to the position when she’s only talking about one of them. Shiro is her right hand and he thinks of that when he pilots Voltron and needs Keith. But he thinks of Ryou when its Green’s turn to shield and save the entire team.

Shiro’s father is a tall, lean man, reserved and warm. He’s also a teacher but he teaches at the local university and comes home smelling like printer ink. He’s an only child and his affection isn’t given to physical touch. Instead his father shows his love by providing. Mother is good for comfort when one of the twins is sick - but its their father that brings them a new game to play to distract them, who remembers exactly how to make the honey and orange tea that takes the pain from their sore throats, who sits up with them all night not because he has to or because he’s sparing his wife but because his staying awake with them is his way of standing with them and giving them his strength to fight through to the winning end. Shiro draws on his father’s wisdom when he has a team of his own, trying hard to look beyond what he thinks they should need and instead to see what it is they really do.

Shiro grew up with his paternal grandparents living in the same house and he thinks of his grandmother, a retired geisha of some fame, and her cheerfully gentle way of making everyone that visited, or lived there, feel as if they were home. She taught Shiro and Ryou about art and drama and dance and music, about all the lovely things that are really just human thoughts given form. She is an artist but its the human souls around her that she works, bringing out hidden talents and joys and pains in them the way a painter brings out a hidden color in a picture. She is vibrant and a bubbling aliveness, polite to the point where she can get away with anything in society because she knows all the rules and how to dance with them until they sway to her music. From her Shiro learns to laugh loudly and launch himself after the stars without reserve. From her he leans that love is only good if it feeds you life. He thinks of her the first time he sees the Black Lion and that echo of impression never quite leaves him in all the time afterward as Black’s paladin.

Shiro’s paternal grandfather is a poet. A strong, traditional man, strict in the way he holds himself, the way he lives his life and the way he expects his children and their children to live theirs. At first an intimidating figure, it wasn’t until Shiro and his twin were old enough to match minds that the ‘grandfather’ figure began to open up and reveal all the rich depths of the personality carefully hidden behind the presentation. Shiro’s grandfather taught them history and strategy and self-discipline. And he also taught them the power of words. How a single perfectly found word could fill an entire emotion, how three good words could convey an idea better than an entire paper. He taught the twins the importance of getting to the heart of a matter and then building upward from there, to cut down to find the core of a thing before they tried to understand or communicate it. Their grandfather taught the the power, and danger, of putting a sound to an idea and sharing it with others. Shiro thinks of his grandfather when he tells his team that they can do the impossible - and they believe him and do.

Shirogane Takashi may be far from home and his family. Often, he thinks he’s never going to see them again and he misses them. Misses them the way a man too long in space misses the rain in the trees or the wind on his face. But they’re not ghosts to him. And each time he reaches out to his new family, this rag-tag motley crew of teenagers and ancient aliens (and mice) he can feel his family back on Earth moving with him as well. One day, he promises himself when he’s feeling Ryou strongest inside his heart, he is going to bring his team back to Earth. He’s going to find both of his families and they’re all going to go home. Together.


	4. day four: galaxy garrison

"I don't like sand. It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere."

Takashi's frown immediately went from vague to full on offended and he swiveled to face his brother, almost losing his balance on the edge of the cliff they were both sitting on.

"I am not that whiny sounding!"

Ryou snorted laughter hard enough that it was his turn to be in danger of falling from their shared perch. Takashi debated letting him fall if he did slip but the twins had a finely developed sense of balance. Usually they had a good sense of where their bodies were resting in any space as well thanks to their years of martial arts but - adolescence wasn't kind to that particular part of their skill set and body parts seemed to grow at random too quickly for their minds to adjust their placement lately. It was frustrating. Takashi was finding a lot of things about this new life frustrating. Currently his brother wasn't helping with that.

"I'm not," he emphasized again. Ryou had stopped snickering and settled next to him, arms propped out behind him as he leaned back in contrast to the way Takashi was leaned forward, forearms over his thighs. He didn't say anything and after a while the silence and his presence helped soothe Takashi a bit.

"I guess I'm just a bit homesick," he finally admitted, sorting down through the conflicting emotions to find the source of them. "I miss mom and dad. I miss how quiet and peaceful the house is. I can't retreat anywhere here when I need some downtime to get my head back on. Every where's got people in it. I thought back home was crowded but I don't even have my own room here."

"You don't back home either," Ryou remarked gently and Takashi snorted a quiet laugh of his own and leaned back to elbow his brother before laying on his back next to him.

"You know you don't count."

"Thanks," Ryou's snark was dry, and understanding. People, as much as the twins enjoyed them, were a drain. A fun drain but one they needed alone time to recharge from. For each other however, it was a recharge, not a drain, to spend time together. And they weren't senior enough yet to be able to pick their dorm mates so they hadn't ended up getting to share a room. Ryou seemed to make up for it by claiming parts of the massive garage and several work rooms as his 'alone' space but Takashi hadn't been able to find the same for himself. He exhaled and shifted to fold his arms behind his head.

"I wish we didn't have to sneak out. The instructors act like we're going to get lost if we step two feet outside the main gates without supervision."

Next to him Ryou rocked a little, one hand taking his weight to the other.

"Lots of these kids haven’t been out on their own running errands since they were seven, Taka. I bet kids do get lost out here and need rescuing sometimes." He wasn’t disagreeing with the complain, just pointing out the reason they had to subvert the rules for their own sake.

"I guess," Takashi let his brother be the voice of reason and help him recenter. He exhaled and shut his eyes a minute. Let the quiet of the canyon below and the emptiness of the sky above and his brother's steady presence wash through him and sweep away all the clutter of smaller, jagged, confused emotions, slowing his breathing to help clear himself. Patience led to focus. That was grandpa's saying. 'Patience yields focus'.

"I do miss the rain," he said after a while. Next to him Ryou grunted as he laid back to rest next to him.

"Yeah. And some of the food here is really gross too."

It was Takashi's turn to laugh and this time it felt good instead of bitter.

"I like the mac and cheese," he admitted and next to him in the growing dark his brother snorted.

"Pleb."

Takashi smiled next to him, relaxed now as the minor irritations of multiples days that had built up slowly drained away. The last of the daylight did as well until the dark of night settled over the canyon and the cliff wall they were resting on, heat the rock had accumulated through the day seeping up now through their uniform jackets to keep them warm as the night’s chill set in. And then Takashi sighed again and it was relief and welcome and completion in the sound. Next to him in the dark his brother made a wordless agreeing sound in his throat. Above them both the Milky Way spread out like spilled light, brilliant and clear and wild.

“No city lights out here,” Ryou commented and Takashi exhaled again, lungs finally expanded and relaxed. The stars above, uninterrupted by human light for the first time in his life, filled him when he inhaled.

“Its not so bad out here,” he agreed in a content murmur. “Not really so bad at all.”


	5. day five: AU

The Walls hadn’t always been - but they felt as if they had. Once upon a time, as all bad stories start, the Walls hadn’t existed and the Cities hadn’t either. Mankind had lived in the Wilds - and paid for it, because you could hardly call what history told them was true by calling it ‘living’. That was before though. Before the First Wall, before the First City, before mankind had learned to push back against the Wilds. For a very long time, that breathing space had been enough.

Not now.

This was the age of enlightenment. The age of progress. The age of steam. Ryou suspected previous ages had been labeled the first two during their runs - but not the last. The last was new. And it was his element.

When the gears whirred and clanked, when the metal heated, when the steam changed the texture of the air as it hissed and shouted out of its valves and pipes - when the world moved - that was where Ryou was. Where he loved. Where he knew he belonged. He thrived - and so did mankind. The Walls expanded, the Cities grew, iron and metal and clanking monsters pushed forward into the Wilds and they claimed that space. Claimed what was theirs by the oldest right in existence. Force.

Ryou was proud of his work, proud to contribute it. Proud - and vindicated - each time trees disappeared and ground was cleansed barren and common feet trod it in safety. And each night he slept in the small rented apartment near the barracks with his twin, surrounded by honest metal and thrumming engines and he felt safe.

Until the day Taka’s team came back from their mission into the Wilds - and Taka didn’t. 

Taka. Shirogane Takashi. Leader of a hundred missions. Hero of the Battle of Blood’s End. Youngest captain in the Range. 

Ryou’s older twin brother.

Something in the Wilds had taken Taka. Worse, something in the Wilds was _keeping_ Taka.

And suddenly the Walls weren’t to keep humanity safe from what was Outside. They were what was keeping Outside safe from Ryou. But you didn’t go out into the Wilds without a plan - and you didn’t go out alone. The twins had friends.

And they had Ryou’s machines.


	6. day six: all shiro celebration

A strange thing happens each time he plugs the black bayard into his lion’s port. He didn’t notice it the first time, too caught up in the life or death struggle with Zarkon and the sheer overwhelming feeling of being linked to Black so closely. The next few times it happens so fast, and his team is in the middle of things that are intense and take up most of his concentration - but he still feels it. A strange…. ’ _other_ ’ feeling, like an echo he can’t quite hear somewhere behind him. He sets it aside to think about later - and later he tries to dismiss it as the ‘heat of battle’. He has enough problems inside his head already, he doesn’t want to invite more. But then there’s a time he ports into Black’s bayard slot for something relatively mundane and, not distracted, not dealing with a hundred things at once, just simply needing to be on the other side of the planet that’s in the way with Black’s ability to go transient, he feels the click as the bayard meets the port and

_he’s a trapped soul on the astral plain_

_he’s a paladin without a lion  
_

_he’s murdered by his team so someone else can wear his body like a skin suit_

Shiro comes out of it shuddering, feeling as if he’s just come up for air out of the core of an ocean planet. Shivering inside, somewhere deeper than even his body. He reaches up to wipe sweat from his face and catches the clock on the dash. It’s been no more than three ticks since he snapped the bayard in place.

“Shiro!”

The welcome greeting pulls him back to the present and he focuses on the viewscreen and being on the other side of the planet but - it doesn’t go away. That - whatever that feeling is that’s in the center of his soul. He puts it aside again, gets on with his mission - but this time he can’t ignore or forget it. It’s an echo somewhere behind him that’s slowly catching up. So, later that night, when the mission is over and everyone’s tucked in and asleep in the Castle, he goes back to Black. 

The lion welcomes him, lowering its great head and opening its jaw. It’s been waiting for him. It makes him feel better and yet doesn’t at the same time. It means that whatever it was that happened, that flash of feeling he got - it was real. Almost cautious he eases down in the seat before finally letting himself relax back into it. He shifts his hand and the Black Bayard materializes in it. It fits his palm perfectly, a solid, reassuring weight. He turns it and it hums softly against his palm and inside his mind. The bayard he’d reclaimed from Zarkon, the symbol of Black’s freedom - and his too. His chest feels lighter, better, more whole, each time he gets to hold it. Cradling it in his lap, he shuts his eyes and exhales. Inhales. Breathes through the calming, centering exercise that has become as much ritual as tool for him at this point.   
  
“Show me?” he asks the Black Lion and he doesn’t even ha\ve to open his eyes to know the bayard port has risen in its place next to him. He can feel it. Taking another long, slow breath and exhaling just as slow, he opens his eyes and he slots the Black Bayard into place.

_he’s the Black Paladin of a Voltron that doesn’t have any other lions left_

_he’s the Black Paladin following in the footsteps of a dozen other Black Paladins, chosen mostly for ceremonial purposes no one even remembers the point behind any more_

_he’s the Black Paladin fighting a war for an Empire that spans the stars against rebels_

_he’s the Black Paladin with a witch riding at his side_

_he’s the Black Paladin with a White Paladin riding at his side and both Paladins have his face and he’s both of them  
_

_he’s the Black Paladin streaking through an endless maze of sky high buildings and burning dark neon under a sky who’s sun burns too large and sullen orange  
  
he’s the Black Paladin, he’s the Black Paladin, he’s the Black Paladin _

\- he’s suddenly, and all at once, a thousand thousand Black Paladins, some who wear his name, all who wear his face in some way or another, all holding the Black Bayard, all linked to the same Black Lion even when it doesn’t look like a lion at all

but there’s more.

he’s a thousand thousand faces who aren’t Black Paladins, who had never known the Black Lion or Voltron.

_he’s a desperate rebel staring through a green crossed visor as he lays explosives on a giant transport ship_

_he’s a Garrison instructor wearing a wedding ring and empty where his dreams had once been_

_he’s a gladiator still fighting in the Galra arena, more machine now than human_

_he’s a cop in a hive-like city built inside an asteroid, trying to bring down a corrupt corporation_

_he’s wearing full samurai gear with a snarling black lion mask over his face fighting oni in an ancient city_

_he’s soaring over mountain tops, air thin and sharp in his lungs, laughing and chasing a dark haired woman with peregrine wings that almost match his own.  
_

and there’s more.

 _he’s creatures he can’t wrap his mind around, situations he can’t quite understand. He’s primitive, an only newly sentient species. He’s transcendent, someone that has past the need for time and space. He’s everything in between, fighting with mace and shield, fighting with bolts of light from his hands, fighting with long claws and tearing fangs. He’s a woman, he’s a man, he’s neither, he’s both. He’s at home, wrapped up close and content with his wife, his husband, his pack, his children, his pets, his brothers and sisters and all by himself all at the same time._

A hundred thousand, a million, lives filter through him all at once and he comes back to his own body gasping and shaking and sweating. He has to let go of the bayard and wrap both arms around himself just to hold himself tight and together in the one body he has.   
  
For a long time he stays that way, until his heart stops thundering in his chest, until the violent shakes fade out of his body, until he can breathe again without making hiccuping sobbing lost sounds. It leaves him exhausted and he curls his long legs up in the chair with him, fitting sideways to rest his cheek against the back of the chair. It expands to fit his new position and he exhales a weak 'thanks’ to Black. Who rumbles softly around him. He feels hollowed out and bone tired. As if he’s just run a mile in a single minute, body exhausted, mind exhausted. He’s starting to work through it though, starting to understand, in part - whether he wants to admit it or not - to having had to listen to Slav go on about alternate dimensions almost constantly since he’d become a part of the Castle’s crew.

“Those were - other realities,” he says it out loud because somehow that helps him think it through, helps it make sense. "Other Black Paladins. We’re all connected through the bayard.“ He shuts his eyes, let the thoughts settle. Frowns as he opened his eyes again. "But what about the others? They weren’t Paladins. They’ll never touch a bayard - or a lion. Why - ?”

**_They are all my Paladins_ **

Black’s rumbling, rolling, thrumming 'voice’ in his head, a completely concept his mind had to break down into words afterward.

“Even the ones that will never know you?”

**_Their souls are Black Paladin souls. Every single one. Whether I am there or not._ **

**_They are_ all _my Paladins._**


	7. day seven: birthday

“So where’s the birthday bo-”

Ryou cut himself off as he swung into the —— and actually caught sight of his brother. Sound asleep, sitting up and tipped over onto Lisa’s shoulder. She had her finger to her lips in warning - but the way Shiro was snoring, Ryou doubted he could have set off a firework in the room to celebrate and woken him up. One of his brother’s lax hands was wrapped around a stick in a pot of dirt that was sitting in his lap. Ryou walked across the room and squatted down on his heels in front of his friends.

“You’re kidding me,” he murmured and Lisa exhaled a laughing sound, careful not to jar his brother.

“He’s been working non-stop since the Dracolli decided to join the Coalition.”

“But its his _birthday_ ,” Ryou whispered back and watched Lisa’s smile go soft before she carefully stretched her arm out, finger extended. She couldn’t reach him without moving his twin and so, after a moment of her wiggling her finger insistently at him, he leaned forward and pushed the tip of his nose against it. Satisfied she let her hand drop.

“It’s your birthday too, bright boy. Happy birthday, Ryou.”

“Well, yeah,” Ryou swayed a little, put his fist on his hip for effect,as much of a ‘swagger’ as he could manage when he was balanced on his heels. “And _**I**_ managed to stay awake for it.” He let the joke fall though and added softer: 

"It’s his first birthday at _home_ since he left for Kerberos.“

"He’ll wake up for it,” she answered steadfastly. "Just let him get some sleep first so he can be awake enough to enjoy it.“

"Fine,” Ryou shifted around and sat down so that his back was resting against his brother’s legs. Reaching into his jacket he fished out a small key with a ribbon attached to it and twisted to set it in his brother’s open empty hand.

“Happy birthday, you big dork,” he muttered affectionately and then settled back against Taka’s legs, folding his arms over his chest and dropping his chin onto his chest. Intent on waiting.

Some time later the door to the room swished open and Lance bounced in. Balloons tethered to foil strings followed him, fighting with each other and the top of the door to get into the room. The leggy teens forward momentum stopped so abruptly that the two people behind him smacked into him, bouncing all of them into the room. Ryou, without moving from his post at his brother’s feet, cracked open a single deadly eye and the argument that had been about to start never showed up. Instead Hunk just made distressed quiet noises and tried to wipe icing off the back of Lance’s jacket and balance the cake in his hands at the same time and Pidge, always quick on the uptake, slipped out her communicator to snap a picture of the sleeping trio on the couch.   
  
Ryou opened his other eye, glanced back to see that he was the only one awake, and decided sleep guardian was now his job.

“Birthday?” he asked, voice a bit gravely from his doze. Lance and Hunk both nodded, Pidge was too busy with a small remote wheeling a little box on wheels into the room to answer. Ryou gestured with a hand.   
  
“Well, don’t let us stop you if you want to decorate. Just keep it quiet.”

“Right, right. Quiet. Easy peasy.” Lance assured him. Ryou wasn’t sure how much faith he put into that promise but - true to it, with only a minimum of friendly arguing, the trio soon had balloons and streamers and a pretty impressive banner set up. Even the cake had been rescued and sat quietly, and temptingly, on the nearby table. Ryou thought he saw strawberry and oreo cookies on top of it from his lower perch and he was very glad he shared his twin’s birthday if that was the cake they were getting. Finally satisfied, the trio ran out of things to do and ended up standing awkwardly in front of him. Ryou beckoned with his hand.

“I can see the bags under all three of your eyes. Come on over and settle in. Catch a quick nap before the party. Lance, take off your jacket first though.”

“Are you sure?” Hunk asked but Pidge was already scrambling over to claim a spot against Shiro’s empty side.

“Come on, Hunkalicious, pretend its a sleep over.”

Lance’s face lit up at the thought and he was scrambling over to join Pidge on the couch. It settled it for Hunk and he ambled over and settled down next to Ryou on the floor, getting comfortable against Shiro’s other leg. A moment later Lance slipped down to join him, leaning his back against his friend’s shoulder so both of them had Shiro’s leg trapped between them.

“What’s the menace on wheels?” Ryou asked Pidge suspiciously as the new arrivals bedded down.

“Confetti. Lots of confetti.”

“Think I’ll pretend I don’t hear the fiendish glee in your voice when you say that, Short Stack,” Ryou shut his eyes and settled his chin back on his chest as the three teammates snickered to each other.

When the door swished open the next time, it was Pidge’s eyes, bright behind her glasses that looked up from the communicator she’d been tapping code into. She didn’t move from where she was curled up against Shiro’s side though. Keith, looking confused, stood in the doorway.

“It’s a party,” Pidge whispered at him, intonation dry. "Can’t you tell?“

"Uh - no?” he guessed at the correct answer and she snickered and then, feeling expansive and warm and welcoming because being snuggled always did that to her no matter how much she denied it, she gestured with an arm.

“Come on over. We’re waiting for Shiro to wake up so we can start.”

Keith hesitated in the doorway - and then Kosmos nudged past him to trot into the room and flop down on the floor on Ryou’s free side, immediately tucking his bushy tail close and lowering his head to curl his nose into it. Ryou, dead to the world, grunted something in his sleep but didn’t wake up. Slow, Keith let himself into the room and then, after some more hesitation, came the rest of the way into it and settled down on the couch next to Pidge.

“So we’re just gonna - sit here?”

Pidge shrugged.

“Better than running laps or doing drills or dealing with newbs asking me stupid questions about how the _Altas_ ’ engine runs. That’s my dad’s area, not mine.”

Keith thought about it and then nodded, carefully settling his back against the couch and crossing his arms over his chest before tucking his chin down like Ryou’s. Kosmos added his snores to the others.

“Hey, hey, party in the - wow….. Not here.” Veronica, Ginger and Acxa all stopped dead in the doorway, arms full of presents from the crew. Pidge managed a wave from where she was buried under a slumped over and hard sleeping Keith and Shiro’s snore rumbling side. She also made no move to wiggle out of her human cave. Veronica’s slow gaze took in first her brother and then the rest of Shiro’s human body pillow and made a little 'what can you do?’ face with a shoulder shrug. Giving directions that consisted mostly of chin jerks and eyebrow movements, she got all the presents settled on the floor in front of the cake table. Then, in the same snore punctuated silence, a bit more eyebrow and chin movement debate occurred between the three women. The final shrug at the end of it saw them all piling onto the couch on Lisa’s other side and settling in comfortably. Everyone was asleep in seconds, old military habit easy to fall into

except for Acxa who was sitting there a bit stiffly and leaned forward a bit to make eye contact with Pidge around the growing mass of bodies.

“Is this how people from Earth usually celebrate Birthing Day?”

“Nah,” Pidge snickered. "Just really exhausted people from Earth. You’ll get used to it.“

"Hm,” was Acxa’s flat opinion and she folded her arms over her chest and settled in to patiently wait.

“We’ll need to make sure the seats are all at the correct height for the Officer’s Dinner with the Dracolli. You know how they get about whose head gets to be higher than whose. And we’ll need all the Paladins there - ” The door swished a short while later, letting in Coran, arms full of gifts from alien planets, and then Allura, still dressed for the State Dinner with the remaining Earth delegates she’d slipped away from early. The two aliens came to a stop and for a long, quiet moment surveyed the scene in front of them. A human mass of Paladins and friends and family and crew all draped over each other and sound asleep and in the middle of it all was Shiro, one eye open and unmoving, practically pinned down by the now loose and stretched out bodies of his loved ones. He gave a smile, careful not to move or speak loudly enough to wake anyone up.

“Welcome back, princess. Coran. Its called a slumber party. Want to join us?”

Coran’s chest expanded.

“A slumber party, you say? Why this reminds me of the time I was a wee burner and my Uncle Ralf took me to see the Mating Dance of the Drombulls.”

“And we would be delighted to join you,” Princess Allura cut in with a smile that stripped all the weight of authority off of her face and made her look young and carefree. "Come, Coran. Let’s get these presents settled with the others and find some blankets for everyone.“

In short time, the two Alteans were settled in as well, Coran resting with a sleep mask he’d pulled out of nowhere over his eyes next to Lance and Hunk and Allura tucked in between Ryou and Kosmos, leaning against Shiro’s leg.   
  
"Happy birthday, Shiro,” she murmured in the soft peace of the room, head resting against the side of his knee so all he could see of her was the white cloud of her hair. Even if she wasn’t a paladin anymore, she still tended to gravitate to that side of him he’d noticed. The same way Keith and Pidge were both nestled together against his shoulder. Somehow it was all a strangely reassuring position to find everyone in.

“Thank you,” he whispered back and then sat very quiet and still until her breathing evened out. They’d all been going hard to get the Coalition back on its feet and re-centralized now that the threat of Zarkon and Haggar was gone. Struggling to help the Galra transition while keeping their autonomy, to sweep up all the war lords and corrupt planetary leaders, struggling to keep supply lines going and resources headed where they were needed most. There were a hundred thousand things that pulled the Atlas and Voltron and Earth and the Coalition and the New Altean Council into a hundred different directions. But now, just for this moment -   
  
the door swished open again and four mice charged in to scurry up the blanket draped human mountain and settle in as well, quickly becoming small balls of snoring fur -   
  
Shiro smiled.

For now, for just this moment, everyone was together and safe and nearby.  
He couldn’t have asked for a better birthday present.

Relaxing he let himself drift and just before he fell back asleep he heard a rumble from his lion, soft and low and thrumming in the back of his mind:

“Happy Day’s celebration, my paladin.”

“Happy Day’s celebration, Black,” he agreed in a murmur.

One last time the door swished open and a head poked in. Looked at the pile of people in the center of the room and made a soft noise of awareness. Stepping into the room fully, the figure set the present wrapped in star wrapping paper on top of one of the piles of presents.

“Looks like I didn’t miss the party after all,” Jiro murmured with a smile. Reaching over to find a blanket for himself as well.


	8. day eight: Kuron's day

He flies.

In his dreams, before he has a name, before he has memories, before he Is - he flies. Through the clouds and then higher

_higher_

**higher!**

Higher into the great forever black, into the stars that burn like souls in the darkness around him as they too fly free. He and the stars, soaring through the darkness, finding freedom and joy despite the emptiness that tries to weigh them down, that tries to overwhelm and subsume them. 

He knows nothing. Not where he came from, not where he is going to. Not even a name or a sense of being.

But he knows he was made to fly

that _they_ were made to fly

and anything - everything - that comes after must fall somewhere behind that.

He solidifies, as memories and thoughts and controls are pumped into him. Perhaps he is not a star after all. Perhaps he is only a comet, streaking across alien skies, forever traveling, never finding home.

But - what a fate to be sealed into. Flying forever without chains or restraints on his flight.

He flies - 

and it is only when he wakes that he falls.

Falls into a body that feels strange and small, falls into a life suddenly full of immediate gravity and threats, falls into pain and sadness and confusion and misery - and hope and joy and triumph. He forgets he was flying before he was born, forgets the stars that flew with him, forgets the eternal sky and only caches glimpses of it through the Black Lion. 

It is only when he falls the last time, when his soul flees a body, berift and unloved, unaccounted for and forgotten already, weeping from a great wound in his chest where his heart had once been - 

its only then that he remembers.

Because, if he has become a comet - than perhaps it was never that he had no home to go back to. Maybe his home was his sky all along. 

And the other stars, fellow travelers like he is, welcome him back when he comes.

Fly, Jiro.

Fly high.

_**Higher!** _


	9. day nine: past/future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter, gang! Hope y'all celebrated Shiro's birthday in style. Let's give him the happy ending he deserved. All Shiros are good Shiros.

The black bayard. The flaming sword forms. Zarkon’s mech explodes and unleashes warped energy, anti-matter surging outward in one last attempt to destroy everything in front of it. The Black Lion, always dwelling between seconds, sees the threat coming, knows that it will destroy Voltron - that it will destroy the Lion’s pride and the mortal paladins that trust in it. And as soon as Black knows it, so does Black’s Paladin. Shiro can’t let that happen. He _won’t_ let that happen. They can’t let that happen. And so, paladin and Lion, both reach down to save the others, drawing on all the energy at their disposal to keep the team alive, desperate, no matter what it takes, paladin and lion of one heart and mind, as they husk themselves dry, absorbing all of that dark evil energy into themselves so that it won’t touch their team. Their friends. Their charges.

Love - is funny that way.  
  
He dies.

Keith wakes up. Heart pounding, stomach in knots, tossing the blanket off of the bed and half crawling, falling, stumbling to the door. Shiro. He has to see Shiro. Has to make sure what he saw was only a dream, a nightmare, a lie. And Shiro is there, studying stars in the astro-viewing room to help center himself. Pensive, worried, nervous, but determined and ready to start. Ready to take the fight to Zarkon and use the Black Lion as a lure. Keith can breathe again. Almost. It was just a bad dream. Just a nightmare. Just a lie.

The black bayard. The flaming sword forms. Zarkon’s mech explodes and unleashes warped energy - but this time there’s a red lion, faster than any lion, faster than death, detached from his team’s body in an instant and in the way of the surge. The lion, and its paladin absorb the shock of the explosion. Without regrets. Without hesitation. To protect the others. To protect Shiro.

Love - is funny that way.

He dies.

Lance wakes up feeling hollow, stunned, empty inside. Like being homesick for a place you can never go back to but a thousand times worse. He tells himself it was only a dream, nerves before the battle but the hollow feeling, as if all the hope in the universe has dried up, stays with him until breakfast, when Keith gives him a funny look, a little worry and a little confusion and a little inability to figure out how to voice any of it at the state of Lance’s usually perfect hair. Lance yells at him over something stupid and for a little while its all right. They are still all immortal and untouchable and too young to believe otherwise. Lance lays on the act that there’s nothing to fear thick and perhaps some of his team believe him despite themselves. Just a dream. Until -

The black bayard. The flaming sword forms. Zarkon’s mech explodes and unleashes warped energy Except - he doesn’t explode against Voltron this time, locked in a death’s hug, dead eyes to living ones. Instead he explodes further away, safely, just barely, out of range and the concussion of his explosion damages but doesn’t kill the team of lions and their paladins. Except one. Because someone had to kick the giant monster safely away and so the blue lion was still extended, closest to the explosion, job done, soccer ball of death passed on. To protect Keith. To protect his friends.

Love - is funny that way.

He dies.

Hunk wakes up crying. He wakes up crying more than he’d like to admit but usually its over his own fears. Silly little light fears that are safe to be afraid of, outlets for the bigger fears he can’t face because they’re too much. All his life has been about seeing the truth under the surface of things, mechanics and ingredients. The truth is too scary to look directly at sometimes. He hugs Lance when he finds him, squeezing the gangly paladin in a crushing bear embrace until Lance, who loves affection, finally squeaks a bruised protest and wiggles free. The blue paladin laughs, says something easy, tries, without even thinking of it to soothe Hunk’s worried soul - but Hunk watches him for the rest of the morning. He watches all of them, the paladins, the princess, Coran, even the Blade. He watches them and thinks of how fragile they all are and how precious that makes them.

The black bayard. The flaming sword forms. Zarkon’s mech explodes and unleashes warped energy. The Yellow Lion responds. Like its paladin, born to be the bulwark against the storm for the weaker. Voltron grows armor. Great golden thick armor. Beautiful and impossible, the pure response to a matched need between paladin and Lion. The explosion pounds into the armor, hammers at it, howls like a hungry wolf under the winter door - but the armor holds. Those encased safely in it are protected. There is no fear left, only iron determination. His friends _will_ live.

Love - is funny that way.

He dies.

Pidge wakes up screaming. Calling for her dad, her brother, her mom, curling against the wall her bed is set against. In the dark. No one comes. She gets angry. Throws a few things once her voice is steady enough to get the lights to turn on, once she’s decided that being angry is better than being afraid or sad. Afterward, she tries to tinker with something that only last night had her whole attention - but it tastes like overchewed bubblegum inside of her and she can’t find any distraction or pleasure in it. She marches out and finds Hunk, in the kitchen, cooking, because he’s nervous and that’s what he does. But if he had the same dream its not in his eyes and she only gets a shoulder pat of sympathy when she mutters something about a nightmare. She sits on the counter and watches him work and reminds herself that dreams are only subconscious fluctuations of the brain processing entirely unrelated things during the night. Reminds herself, coldly, that no one life is more important than another, that she still has things to do and family to rescue.

The black bayard. The flaming sword forms. Zarkon’s mech explodes and unleashes warped energy. And Green is there, shield extending further than it ever has before. Not Voltron’s shield. That would take too much time. Only the shield that the Lion wears on its back but suddenly the shield is triple its size, heart bound and mind bound to its paladin in singular accord. The shield is angled, shines like crystal and it reflects the energy back toward its source. Refusing to accept the blow, mirroring it instead so that there is nothing for the destruction to find the edges of to hold, to grapple. But even a lion can only do so much in a moment and the shield starts to crack against the sheer brutal force of the explosion. Lion and Paladin are of one mind, a single circuit determined not to branch. The strong will not overpower, reality will be forced to change its nature before they will let their creation break and hurt their friends. Their team. Their family.

Love - is funny that way.

She dies.

Allura wakes up in her bed, frozen, eyes wide and starring for a very long time before she remembers to breathe. She is Altean, she is Royal Altean, which comes with its own evolution of magics. Dreams aren’t just dreams to her. She lays there for a long time, under the weight of this one. For it was her that made the Paladins a team, that sent them out to fight against an entire Empire, just the five of them. Its her that’s driving this last push to destroy Zarkon. Its her - that may get them killed. And she knows this already, has known it all along and yet - they have been so lucky - or so blessed. Coming out of the impossible, together, time and again. She knows that kind of thing can’t last - but her heart…. her heart has needed to believe it will. Or what is the point in even fighting? Why not just hide away somewhere on the edge of the universe until they die, safe and old and unremarked? Why _must_ she fight, and risk others? The answer is simply that someone must fight. Even if they are small voices, someone must raise them against the storm and say ‘we are not alike, this will not be left unchecked’. People die. She knows this. Her whole world is dead to prove it. Wars kill. She looks at the littlest Paladin, watches her move with nervous energy and necessary false bravado before the mission and her heart burns in her chest.

The black bayard. The flaming sword forms. Zarkon’s mech explodes and unleashes warped energy - and Allura is there. No one pays attention to a small star sled and an even smaller Altean holding on to it when the gods battle between the stars. But she knows how it ends and she is there, in position, all alone and impossibly small, sled darting in like a Light Fish, at the last possible second, between the behemoths as Zarkon explodes. She has seen what she can do. Her battle with Haggar opened her eyes. She is small but she takes all the energy of that explosion, all the deadly destruction hungry to devour her team, her paladins, her friends, her family, and she absorbs it just as she absorbed Haggar’s warped power. This is not about winning a war or besting an enemy. This is about protecting the people she has grown to view as her own. This is about making sure they live no matter what happens to the rest of the universe. Because, she realized earlier, they are more important to her than the universe. They are hers and she loves them.

Love - is funny that way.

She dies.

……

The black bayard. The flaming sword forms. Zarkon’s mech explodes and unleashes warped energy -

and for just a moment, a split second, the universe slides to the side a half-step. There is no Voltron where the blast vents itself in fury and hungry rage. It is a universe with no Voltron, no drifting Galra command center, no scars on its psych from the space battle of giants. It is a universe untouched and the anti-matter that would do so much harm, blasts harmlessly into nothing. Spends itself on nothing. Becomes nothing. And then the universe remembers and jerks back into place in almost the same second and once again there is a Voltron and a command center and the scraps and dying energy of a space battle littering its surface. Zarkon’s mech drifts, dead and spent, hollow of any triumph it would have taken with itself in death. The five paladins in their lions, the Alteans and Galra on the Castle ship all blink. Inhale. Forget that, for an almost sliver of a second, the universe wasn’t their universe. The silence is vast. Finally, tentatively, Lance asks:

“Did we win?”

Voltron, _all_ of Voltron, hearts and lions, go home. The Castle ship worm-holes away. That night, they all fall into each others arms in a hug that seems to fill the ship and has no missing places in it.

Love - is funny that way.

And Bob has nothing on Slav when it comes to ineffable maybe-deities that occasionally pause long enough to take stock of the humanity that whirls around them and place a judgement or two.


End file.
